


Rhapsody

by becca2793



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, Keith is an introvert, M/M, keith is a violinist and lance is a pianist, lance likes music memes, musician au, the rating is for part two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8365285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becca2793/pseuds/becca2793
Summary: He’s graceful, fluid like water, like a rushing river, his entire body swaying with movement as he plays. Keith can just barely catch it, but it sounds beautiful – contemporary. Lance uses his entire being when he plays, with no wasted movements, everything so soft and measured.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the amazing Drosana!

He sighs as he stands, pulling his messenger bag over his head and waiting to file out of the classroom. He feels drained, in just every way possible - like he needs a three thousand year nap. He’s not going to get it, though, because he has lessons in an hour and needs to go practice. If his professor sees that he hasn’t improved on the Vivaldi piece, he’s fucked.

He has to walk through the main foyer of the music building to get to where the instrument lockers are, through throngs of people trying to get in and out; he always hates this time of day. He doesn’t mind being around people, but being around this many of them at once makes him so uncomfortable. But he powers through it, pushing forward and around, trying not to touch anyone; he gets stopped before he even exits the room.

He turns to the hand that’s laying on his shoulder, not all that excited that someone touched him without his permission. He puts on a polite smile, though. “Yes?”

“Hey, man,” the guy says. He has a somewhat lost expression on, eyebrows drawn together. “Where would you find the – uh…pianos, I guess?”

“You mean the practice rooms?” Keith asks, almost dryly. He catches himself, though.

The man nods quickly, his short hair feathered against his forehead. Keith likes the color of his eyes. “Yeah, those."

Keith watches him for a moment. “There are two sets: one upstairs and one downstairs. If you aren’t a music major-” and Keith guesses he isn’t –“use the ones upstairs.”

“Where’s, uh, the way to upstairs?”

Keith does not have time for this. “I have to go that way; I’ll just show you.”

“Thanks,” he sighs in return, a little relieved. “My name’s Lance.”

He honestly doesn’t really care, he just wants to get to his locker to get his violin and start practicing. “Keith,” he returns anyway. Normally maybe he wouldn’t mind having a conversation with this guy – anyone interested in music is interesting enough for him – but he doesn’t have time for this right now. He needs to keep his mind on Italian Baroque compositions. 

“Keith,” Lance repeats, as if turning the sound over in his mouth. He kind of likes the way it sounds when Lance says it. “Cool. You a music major?”

“I’m an instrumentalist,” he returns.

“What kind?”

“I play violin,” Keith sighs, softly. He resituates the bag over his shoulder and pushes through the double doors to get to the second part of the building. “What are you doing here?”

Lance looks at the ground, kicking his feet as he walks. “Friends convinced me to come. I haven’t played in a while.”

There’s probably a story to that, but Keith doesn’t really care to hear it right now. “Alright, well – that’s the stairwell.” He points to a door to their right as they come upon it. “Nice to meet you, Lance.”

He catches those eyes, eyes that are blue and deep and – appraising? “Nice to meet you, too, _Keith_ ,” he says, a smirk lighting his face, and then he pushes through the door and disappears into the stairwell.

Keith subtly holds on to the water fountain next to him. Lance just checked him out, smirked, gave a sultry line, and then walked off casually. He needs to be focused on music right now, not boys. It would be stupid to harp on this guy he met for two whole minutes.

He pushes on, frowning, and unlocks his locker when he gets to it. He needs to be at the professor’s office in about fifty minutes. Should be enough time to run it through a couple times.

* * *

 

“Slower, Keith,” Allura says, softly, her hand draping over his to guide his pace. He quickly adjusts to her instruction. “And loosen up your posture a little. You’re not in a military band. You’ll play better if your shoulders are relaxed.”

He swallows and relaxes a little, tension in his shoulders leaving, and then readjusts his chin and tightens his hand on the bow. His fingers dance along the neck of his violin as he listens carefully, quickly correcting the pitch when it shifts out of his control slightly.

“Good intonation,” Allura praises. “Remember to stay in the correct key. A minor, Keith.”

He can’t really nod, so he hums instead and moves his fingers into second position. From there he moves up through the chords, eyes closed and hyper-focused.

He doesn't mess up once. “Great job! It looks like you've really got this waltz down.” She turns to her desk and picks up a new piece of sheet music before ripping the old sheets from the stand and replacing them. “We’ll start on Bach, next.”

He lifts his bow, goes to start, and then pauses. “Allura,” he says, and his hand lowers. “I was thinking…”

She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “What incredibly difficult piece do you want me to give you this time?”

He bites his bottom lip and then looks her straight in the eye. “Paganini.”

“Paganini isn't bad-”

“His 24th Caprice.”

She just stares at him for a moment. “Why?”

“Because I can do it.”

“Because you want to show off,” she attempts to translate. “No, Keith. Pick something else.”

“It’s what I _want_ to play. It doesn't have anything to do with showing off.” Mostly.

“Something else. Now,” she taps the sheet music in front of him. “Play.

* * *

He pulls his beanie down lower and sighs before shutting the door to his locker and walking away from it. He feels much lighter without having to lug the violin case around with him, his messenger bag holding nothing but his binders of sheet music; he just needs to pick a practice room and get started on a piano. He strolls past each room, glancing inside to see if it’s taken, but stops when he sees a familiar looking face.

It’s Lance, his eyes trained on the keys and his fingers twirling away. He’s graceful, fluid like water, like a rushing river, his entire body swaying with movement as he plays. Keith can just barely catch it, but it sounds beautiful – contemporary. Lance uses his entire being when he plays, with no wasted movements, everything so soft and measured. He’s seen people play like this, sure, but they’re usually piano majors, people who have been devoting their life to the instrument for years. But who’s to say Lance hasn’t, honestly? He plays like a pro. Or rather, someone who used to be one.

He watches for much longer than is socially acceptable. Maybe if he’d just stopped for a moment he could have been spared Lance’s notice, but no such luck. The bright eyed boy looks over at him, lips slowly stretching into a smile, and the piano bench clatters to the side as he stands too quickly. Keith tries to make it look like he was just leaving, but Lance is already bounding out of the room, swinging the door open wide.

“Keith!” He says, a little out of breath. He sure is excited. “I was hoping I would see you around here again!”

“What?”

Lance leans against the doorframe and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “I asked around for a violinist named Keith but apparently there are a lot of you.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “There are a lot of people in the music program here.”

“Apparently,” the other boy returns, smirking. “But they said that if I stayed here long enough I would eventually see you again.”

Having some dude wait around and search for him gives him an odd feeling.  Sure, Lance also happens to be incredibly gorgeous, but it’s weird. “Well, I’m here. What do you want?”

“Play with me.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“A duet,” Lance laughs, shaking his head. “Play a duet with me.”

“No,” he returns, sniffing. “I don’t have the time. My junior recital is coming up. Besides, I don’t even know you.”

“Yeah, but you could _get_ to know me,” the other man winks, smirking. Keith makes sure his expression appropriately conveys how uninterested he is. “Fine, fine. But eventually, Keith! Eventually! We’re gonna make sweet, sweet music together.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You sound so sure of yourself. How do you know I won’t just start avoiding you?”

At this Lance grins, his eyes crinkling with feline mischievousness. “Because,” he says, very, very simply. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off of me while I played.” True as that may be, that doesn’t mean Keith has any desire to play a duet with him. The only person he duets with is his brother. Nothing is going to change that.

Lance just smiles at him for a moment before walking back inside his practice room and getting back to what he was doing. Keith allows himself a few seconds to watch, to listen, and then he walks on.

* * *

“I think you should do it,” Shiro tells him, smiling kindly. “You know you want to, so why don’t you just play the duet?”

“But I _don’t_ want to,” he denies, rifling through his sheet music.  His one major weakness is his brother, who can usually get him to do nearly anything, but this is something he’s steadfast about. Lance is pretty, sure, and from what he’s seen a good musician, but that doesn’t immediately mean he wants to spend any extra time with him. He wasn’t lying when he said he was busy; busy is pretty much a perpetual state for music students.

“Well if you don’t want to do it,” his brother tells him wryly, “Maybe you should stop bringing it up all the time.”

He flushes a little. “Twice, Shiro. I’ve brought it up twice. And only to complain.”

“Yeah, you seem really disappointed that a cute pianist has taken interest in you.”

He sniffs in offense. “Whatever. Do you know where that Handel piece went?” He asks, scoffing and tossing one of his music binders to the side. “Or the Bach one?”

“ _Which_ Bach one?” Shiro asks, walking up to him and picking up one of his many others. He flips through it idly.

“Sonata number two,” Keith returns offhandedly. “I need to learn it before my next lesson.”

“I thought you and Allura were working on Vivaldi.”

“We were. We finished,” he says, and sighs heavily before looking up at the ceiling and groaning. “I still don’t know what I’m playing for my recital, though.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that,” Shiro replies. “You’re picky.”

“Of course I’m picky. It’s relevant to my scholarship.”

His brother sighs as well and gently sets his binder down. “I don’t know why you’re so dead set on picking the most difficult songs you can find.”

“I don’t know why Allura won’t give me the chance to prove I can do them.”

“It’s not about that, and you know it.”

He can’t say that he does. Allura never seems to realize that, even if something is a little above his level, he’s willing to work to achieve it. That’s a good thing, right? To always strive to be better? “What’s it about, then?”

Shiro watches him for a moment. “You’ve got a lot on your plate right now and you’re stressed. You need to be taking what little time you have left to rest, not filling it up with more pieces.”

Keith wants to be derisive, to sneer, but his brother is just being worried for him. So he sighs and relents. This time. “Alright,” he nods. “But I’m not doing that duet with Lance.”

“Oh, so his name is Lance, then?” Shiro asks, tone full of mirth. Keith throws a sheet protector at him that lamely falls about two feet in front of his face.

* * *

 

This girl. He knows this girl. She’s standing in front of him, effectively blocking his path, and fidgeting; she seems nervous about something. Maybe just talking to him in general. “Um,” she starts. “This is...really stupid, but...here.” She shoves her hands into his and leaves a slip of paper there. “You have to call him, alright? Promise?" 

He’s honestly beyond confused. He still can’t remember her name. “What?”

“ _Call him_.” And then she’s running off, hair swinging behind her as she does so. He watches her before straightening the paper out to make it readable.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he deadpans to himself. Lance’s name is written in a beautiful script above a messy series of scrawled numbers. He got some girl to give Keith his number? Why wouldn’t he just...do it himself? He doesn’t seem to be lacking in the confidence department. It’s irrelevant though, because he’s not calling him. He’s not calling him, and he’s not doing the duet. He doesn’t have the _time_ for Lance’s games.

This lasts for all of about three hours. He punches Lance’s name into his phone and stares at it for a few moments before finally bringing it up to his ear. It rings a couple of times, but he never picks up; with a scoff he locks his phone and shoves it in his pocket. Honestly, he’s being stupid. He really needs to just ignore Lance. Attention is all he wants. He’ll stop if Keith doesn’t give in.

He sits in a downstairs practice room, hunched over, elbows on the edge of the keyboard of a piano and eyes trained on sheet music to keep him preoccupied. His gaze dances along the notes, the sounds coming to life as he idly hums them and gets an idea of what this piece sounds like in his head. When he’s satisfied, he leans back and presses down on middle A to start the song.

He plays for a while. Piano isn’t something he particularly enjoys, but he’s okay at it. Enough to tap out the notes he needs and practice it for his composition class. But he doesn’t know why his teacher assigned him a song on the piano anyway - he’s a violinist. It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s going to finish it, and then get back to everything else he needs to do.

Once he’s satisfied with what he’s done he stands and makes his way back towards the lockers, taking out his violin to get ready for his next lesson. He plays for a while, eyes trained on his sheet music as he drags the bow across the strings, and with a sigh he picks it up, deciding to waste time on his computer for the rest of the time.

When it reaches about two-fifty, he gets up and makes his way towards Allura’s office.

“Fine,” Allura says, once he’s walked in and set his bags down. He looks up at her in confusion. “You can play the Paganini piece. It’s what you want, right?”

He smiles, expression growing happier as what she said processes. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” she nods, gesturing at him. “It’s your recital. Play whatever you want. I’ll do my best to help along the way. We can get started today if you like.”

“Thank you!” He exclaims, and he starts rummaging through his things to find the music for it. “Why did you change your mind?”

She watches his for a long moment. “You’re an adult now, Keith, but sometimes I still see you as the little boy I first met. Now that you’re grown, though, it’s time for you to start making your own decisions.”

He nods, glad she’s finally seeing that. “Thanks,” he says again, and then he fits the violin between his shoulder and chin. She just smiles at him warmly before clapping her hands and gesturing to the music. He happily starts to play.

After a while, his phone rings and a screeching noise rings out as he jolts, the bow sliding wrong against the violin’s strings. “That should be on silent,” Allura tells him, arms crossed. He digs into his back pocket and denies the call, then starts to play again. It rings once more. Who the fuck has their call denied and then just calls right back? “Just answer it,” she sighs.

Grumbling he sets down his bow and violin before taking the phone out and actually looking at who’s calling him. Lance’s name is displayed big and bright on the front. He almost wants to deny it again on principle, but Allura is giving him a look so he accepts it and puts it to his ear.

“Hello?” He asks, sighing out through his nose.

_“Keith! So good to hear from you man!”_

“I’m in the middle of a lesson…”

_“Oh, bad time then?”_

“Very.”

_“When are you free?”_

“...I’m free after, I guess. Around four…”

_“Cool! I’ll meet you in the same practice room that we saw each other in before!”_

“Wait, I don’t have time to hang out!”

_“Just for a few minutes! See you then!”_

The call ends and he pulls the phone away with a bland expression, watching the screen with pursed lips. “Is that Lance?” Allura asks, and Keith sees that she’s smiling now. He levels her with the most irritated look he can muster.

“No. Let’s get back to work.”

Her smile doesn’t fall in the least, but she starts the metronome again and nods at his violin. “Go ahead, then. It’ll be good practice, playing while you’re distracted.” He rolls his eyes, but gets into first position and begins the song over again.

She directs him while he plays, telling him to loosen up, tighten up, pull the bow longer, change angle. When he’s played the song through completely once, he begins again, and he plays it over and over again, working out the kinks and the issues one by one. By the time three-fifty is rolling around, his arm hurts terribly and his neck isn’t doing much better, but he doesn’t really mind. It’s something he’s used to, and besides, he’s more focused on the fact that Allura’s actually allowing the piece. Sure, Shiro said that she didn’t want to add more stress to his plate, and he appreciates that, but honestly it’s his repertoire. He should be able to add whatever he wants to it.

Once he’s picked up all of his things and slung his bag over his head, he waves to Allura and leaves her office; if he was more of an asshole he might have just ditched Lance and went on back to his apartment because he’s tired, but he can’t do that. So he heads on back to the practice room, violin in hand, and pauses just outside the door. It’s faint, but he can kind of hear a melody - he looks through the window to see if Lance is in there, and he’s not surprised to see that he is, his brown fingers picking out the notes. He watches for a while before stepping back and opening the door.

Lance doesn’t stop playing when Keith walks in, but he does look away from the keys to give him a beautiful smile. “You came.”

“Yeah,” he nods, setting down his things.

“Sit next to me.” Lance scoots to the side, leaving room for Keith to sit, and he watches those long arms reach to pick out melodies now farther away than before. And his hands, they’re...nice. His fingers, too.

Keith doesn’t know how he feels about sitting so close to someone he doesn’t really know, but he does it anyway. To maintain the status quo, he says, to make sure there’s nothing bad between them, but really he does want to get closer, to feel those arms move against him as they play.

He slides into the new spot and leans back as Lance has to reach for a particularly high note. “I’m glad you called,” Lance says, cheerily. “I thought you might not.”

Lance seems like the type to say whatever’s on his mind, which Keith is sure is both a good and bad thing. Keith tends to be a little more introverted, a little more thoughtful, although he has been known to get riled up before. His brother calls him a hot head, but really he’s usually quite good about it. “The girl told me to. She seemed pretty adamant about it.”

He doesn’t pause his melody for even a second. “I told her I’d do her math homework if she did it. She sits next to me and she mentioned today that she was a music major.”

That sounds like something that might happen in high school, not college, but he doesn’t comment on it. “What’s your angle, Lance?”

“I’ve already told you that.”

“Okay, but I don’t have time for a duet.”

“Yes, you do,” Lance laughs, and Keith shakes his head, leaning out of the way again. “You’re here now, aren’t you? And you can sight-read?”

Keith just looks over at him. “Yes…”

“So what’s the problem?”

Nothing, he supposes. This could get Lance off his back, and it might not be so bad. Lance is a good pianist from what he’s seen, and while he’s never done a violin-piano duet, he likes the ones he does with his brother. “Alright. You have sheet music?”

Now Lance stops playing, only to beam and turn to his side. He yanks a small folder out of his schoolbag and thrusts it at Keith. “It’s called Danse Macabre. It’s by some French dude.”

Keith gets off of the bench and flips open the folder before pulling out the sheets and putting them on the music stand a few feet away. “It’s long…” Keith murmurs, pulling out his violin.

“We don’t have to play the whole thing.”

Keith situates his violin and glances over at Lance’s position. “You don’t have any sheet music.”

“Yeah, can’t read a lick of it. I know the whole FACE acronym but that’s it. Can’t sight-read for shit.”

Keith blinks at him, and then looks back at the sheet music. It’s not an easy song. “You play by ear?”

“Mostly,” Lance nods, looking at him over his shoulder. “And watching other people play. I look at youtube videos and stuff.”

Keith is a little impressed, because he’s never met anyone as seemingly good as Lance who didn’t sight read, but he puts it to the side. “Alright. Ready when you are.”

Lance shoots him one more smile and then turns back to the keys. He takes a soft breath and then slowly starts, dragging his bow across the strings, and Lance picks out a few keys on the piano, following along.

He’s about halfway through the song, smiling and laughing along with Lance, when he realizes that he’s actually _enjoying_ it. He always enjoys playing music, yes, but there’s something different about this. The song isn’t happy in the slightest - it’s dramatic, and sounds like something out of a video game maybe - but Lance’s joy is contagious. It’s all Lance, his movements, his little noises of excitement, the way he looks back at Keith and seems for all the world like this is one of the greatest moments of his life.

Lance is passionate and loves music, loves to play simply for the sake of playing. There’s no one around to hear them, but he’s happy anyway, has fun anyway. Keith messes up a note because the smile on Lance’s face makes his heart skip a beat, but they just keep going.

The song ends in a way that’s not quite abrupt and not quite soft, but they finish it with a flair, Keith’s arm moving a little more dramatically than probably necessary as he does. For a moment they’re quiet, just breathing, still kind of laughing, and then Lance spins around on the bench to face him. “See? See? I’ve always wanted to play that duet!”

“Is that why you wanted me to play with you so badly?”

“One of the reasons,” Lance grins, and he leans back a little, elbows resting on the lip of the keyboard. Keith works on picking his violin back up and not looking at him. “You’re really good. What’s your classification?”

“I’m a junior,” he murmurs, tucking hair behind his ears. He turns back to Lance now because he feels like it would be rude to avoid him any longer. “What about you?”

“Junior,” Lance nods, taking the sheet music from the stand and placing it back in his folder. “I’m an education major.”

“Oh.” Keith is a little shocked, but he doesn't know why. “What kind of education?”

“Middle school,” he returns nonchalantly. “Hey, are you hungry?”

Okay, Lance got his duet, and yet he’s still trying to worm his way into Keith’s schedule. He supposes he was wrong - Lance doesn't just want him for his violin playing. “It’s like four-fifteen,” he responds as an answer.

“Yeah, and I haven't eaten since breakfast. I'm starving. How about you? We could go get something at the union?”

Keith considers this for a moment. He’s not hungry, no, and he is really busy, but he still kind of wants to go for some reason. He wants to go in the same way that he actually did want to call Lance, that he might have sorta wanted to play that duet. Shiro would probably tell him it’s because he doesn’t socialize a lot and doesn’t have many friends, and he could be right. Lance is really the first person in a while to pay this kind of attention to him, and even though it’s weird and he’s not entirely sure of why he’s hanging around, he guesses it would be smart of him to not totally push Lance away.

“Alright,” he says finally, nodding. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Great!” Lance exclaims, perking up. “Ah! I’m so happy! Okay, yeah, yes. Let’s go.” He picks up his bookbag and slings it over his shoulder.

“I’ve got to pick up my violin first,” Keith says, a small, amused smile on his lips.

Lance nods vigorously. “Yeah, yep, makes sense.” He chatters about nonsense the entire way to the lockers.

* * *

The union isn’t too packed, mostly because it isn’t quite dinnertime yet and because it’s not directly after a class got out. Keith rests his weight on his left foot and crosses his arms as they wait in line for food, with Lance chattering away about his History of Education class. Keith listens dutifully, nodding when he feels he should, but mostly he has no input on the matter. Mainly because he has one question on the brain.

“Why do you want to be a teacher?”

Lance looks over at him, smiling, and shrugs. “I love kids. I have a bunch of them in my family and I just...I think it’s really rewarding to see them learn and grow and stuff.”

It’s an almost inspirational line, and a somewhat more mature answer than he was expecting. “Oh,” he nods, looking at the floor.

“What about you? Why music?”

Keith shrugs. “I kind of grew up around it in a way. My older brother plays the cello, and I kept bugging him to teach me, so I learned to read sheet music and he let me play around on his. Cellos are too bulky for me, though. Violins and violas are better in my opinion.” He pauses. “How did you learn piano?”

Lance laughs a little, but the sound is soft and a little sad. “My mom. She had this old acoustic in our living room and we would always play it together. She kept trying to get me to learn how to read music but I never really picked it up. She really made me love music.”

Keith pauses, fidgeting. “You sound sad…”

Lance laughs again, a little bit more bitter. “Do I? No particular reason.”

Lance is lying, but that’s fair. They barely know each other.

They’re quiet for a while, getting their food and picking out a table. The big windows that line the walls of the union show a smattering of students and teachers walking around, but it's nowhere near as busy as it would be around lunchtime. He snacks at his small order of fries quietly, rather enjoying the fact that he isn't eating alone for once.

“Hey, uh...why’d you agree to come with me, anyway?”

He glances up at Lance, irritated at his bangs falling in his eyes, and then looks back down and eats another fry. He doesn't know how to answer that without sounding a little like a loser. “Uh, trying to be a little more sociable, I guess.”

Lance smiles brightly. “Well I’m the right guy for the job! You should meet my friends - Hunk and Pidge! You would love them. Especially Hunk. He’s a sweetheart. Pidge is kind of an asshole, but I love them anyway I guess. Like, think of the personification of a Capricorn.”

“I wouldn't know what that is…”

“Hard-headed intellectual type,” he waves the statement off nonchalantly.

“You, uh….you like astrology then?” Keith asks, grabbing for conversation that isn't totally personal and awkward.

“I like most everything,” Lance shrugs. He sips at his drink, glances up from below his eyelashes, and grins around the straw. “Everything.”

Keith feels like that was supposed to be a subtle drop for something. He doesn't want to seem like he didn't get it though so he just nods. “I’m pretty picky,” he shrugs. “Very specific about the things I like.”

“Oh?” Lance asks, resting his cheek on his palm and leaning forward. “What kind of picky?

“People, food, music. My brother says I just have high standards.”

“Don't know why you’re out here with me then,” Lance jokes. Keith frowns a little - that’s kind of dark. “Kidding, kidding. I’m magnificent. Like I said, best man for the job of socializing.”

He’s sure the worried expression doesn’t really fall from his face, but he lets it go. “Your friends, then. Do they go here?”

“Yeah,” Lance nods, happily. “Yeah, Hunk is an engineering student and Pidge is in computer science. They’re both smart as fuck.” He pops a piece of chicken into his mouth. “They’re the ones that convinced me to go and play the other day.”

“Convinced you?”

He pauses in the process of eating another chicken nugget. “Yeah - it, uh, it had been a while since I last played. Long story.” He finishes his process and wipes the excess grease off on his shirt. Keith grimaces. “But it’s like riding a bicycle, I guess,” he says cheerily. “There are quite a few things I remember.”

“I don’t think I could ever forget,” Keith agrees, shaking his head. “When I play it’s like the bow is an extension of myself - music is like a part of me. It would be like forgetting who I am.”

Lance smiles at him softly, lazily, and Keith blinks at the expression for a moment. People don’t usually look at him like that. It’s odd. “That’s really cool, man,” he says, earnestly. “So, what, you wanna be in an orchestra or something?”

He frowns. “I don’t know, honestly. I just...it was either this or physics. And I was informed that I should go for what I love, not just what I’m good at.”

“Well it seems like music is something that you love _and_ you’re good at, so I guess it worked out.”

“Yeah,” he nods, picking at another fry. He really isn’t hungry - he doesn’t know why he got food. Maybe just because Lance did. “It can be tiring, though. Sometimes I wonder if it would be less tiring to be a physics major.”

“Grass is always greener,” Lance chuckles. “But I imagine that being a music major takes a lot more work than people assume.”

“It’s pretty much non-stop,” Keith tells him, sighing. “Especially as juniors and seniors, when we have recitals going on and shit like music history to deal with.”

It feels weird to talk about himself like this. He doesn’t know what to say or how much personal information to give; he’s always had trouble remembering boundaries and what is and isn’t okay to do. He’s just met Lance, so he feels like it would be better to err on the side of caution and keep a few walls up. He keeps watching closely to see if he’s made any mistakes, and Lance seems to be pretty expressive, so he thinks he’s doing okay.

People are exhausting. This is probably why he doesn’t hang out with many of them. That and the whole busy schedule thing.

“Well, I’m no good at anything besides piano but if I can help, just let me know!”

“...Thanks,” Keith returns with a slight nod, a small smile forming on his lips. “I appreciate it.”

And he does, he really does. He doesn’t know _why_ he appreciates it so much, but there’s a small bud of warmth blooming in his chest - Keith is picky, but Lance is something new he decided to try. And he likes it. He likes talking with Lance, eating with him. He doesn’t like measuring every word he says, but he thinks that can be worked on. Anything can be worked on. Anything can be improved. Even his social skills.

“No problem, buddy,” Lance grins, and the bud of warmth blooms further, bleeding out into his chest. What a pretty smile.

By the time they’re done eating, Keith feels it really is time to get going. He has that new piece to work on as well as homework. He can't afford to get behind just because he wants to hang out with Lance a little longer. That would be ridiculous.

But he’s ridiculous. “Hey, what do you say we go practice together? That’s what you need to do next, right? I wanna hear you play more,” Lance tells him, leaning back in his seat casually.

Somehow he doesn't feel like Lance is being overwhelming. It's odd - he probably would with anyone else, but there’s something about his personality. “Okay,” Keith nods after a moment. He knows he probably won’t get much done, but what's the harm?

* * *

 

When he goes to lay down in bed that night, well after midnight because he was totally right and couldn’t focus until Lance had finally left, he finds that he’s not even that tired. His mind is awake and running at a million miles a minute. He thinks about his composition class, about the Paganini piece and Allura allowing him to play it; makes a point to ask Shiro if he knows anything. The two of them are really close, have been for years, so maybe he talked her into it. 

Well, it's not like she could really forbid him from learning it if he wanted to, but he respects her, and it’s not like he’d have the time to work on such a difficult piece if he was learning other things for her.

After that has run circles in his head for a while he flips onto his side and thinks about the other major thing that happened that day. It’s still a little weird and surreal to him - he’s not unfriendly, he doesn't think, but he mostly keeps to himself. He’s an introvert, and either over-thinking or not thinking at all. A rash introvert. He supposes hanging out with Lance today was a good example of that. And it’s not that he can’t say no to people, it's just that he seems to not want to say no to Lance.

And now he has his phone number. They texted for awhile after he got back to his apartment, but Keith isn't a big texter, and Lance kept sending him things he didn't understand - really obscure, almost nihilist memes; some were really funny, others were just concerning. Keith wonders if the people who create memes are okay.

By the time he finally gets to sleep, he’s been rolling around thinking until it felt like his brain was going to melt out of his ears, and the peaceful respite of sleep was completely welcomed.

* * *

He always wakes up early. Always. It's in his biological clock now - his body won't let him sleep past six am. This means he is very, very tired every single goddamn morning. He wishes he could just sleep to ward off the exhaustion, especially because he doesn’t have class until ten on Thursdays, but he always just ends up rolling around thinking again. 

So he does what he always does in the morning and goes to the apartment complex’s gym. He works out there for at least a good hour until he’s completely awake, then he returns to his apartment for a shower and breakfast. He doesn't think about Lance until he gets a text message.

_what he says: i’m fine. what he means: it’s totally astounding that there are deaf musicians that have changed and formed entire basises for music. it's beyond impressive and just goes to show how talented people are and how disability can’t stop people who really want to create. also, i saw this post talking about how shaggy runs as fast as scooby doo who can run like 35 mph and it blew my goddamn mind._

_Why do none of your sentences have capitalization?_

_it’s good of you to focus on the important things keef_

He blinks at his phone for a few moments, and then shakes his head. What is that, a nickname? They text for a while, just like this, but it eventually fades away. Lance sometimes sends him memes throughout the day, because he seems addicted, but besides that they don't have much conversation. That's okay - he needs some time to recuperate from yesterday.

He goes to class later, still occasionally texting Lance, but they don’t see each other until the next week.

“Do you play any jazz? Like New Orleans style jazz?”

“I know nothing about brass instruments. I guess I could fingerpick a double bass or something.”

“We should do a jazz piece together, then! Wouldn’t that be cool?”

“I guess?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know anyone with a double bass, though.”

“You know professors! Just borrow one from jazz ensemble or something!”

He purses his lips. “I’ll ask. What brings this on?”

Lance shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “I heard this song earlier and I really want to play it.”

Keith shakes his head and chuckles a little now. “Alright. Like I said, I’ll ask.”

The other boy beams at him, a bright smile that makes his chest contract. He leans forward, close to Keith, and places a hand on his forearm. “Listen, my dude, we could be great together. Like a duo! Seriously,” he laughs joyously. “I haven’t been this excited about music in a long time.”

Keith cocks his head to the side, a little confused. “What do you mean?”

Lance seems to catch himself, expression freezing. Then his look softens and he shrugs again. “Nothing. Not a big deal. You just get me so pumped up. It’s like, I look at you and I get so excited.”

He feels his face warm a little. He says that like Keith is special, and maybe he is? It makes him indescribably happy. “I’ve never really wanted to play with anyone besides my brother, so...I guess I feel the same.”

The expression on Lance’s face brightens to such a degree that it leaves Keith reeling. His breath stops for a short moment, and he wonders why Lance affects him so much - why is it that Lance excites him? Makes him want to get to know him better? Makes him honestly feel like going along with his pace? Keith never follows others, it’s really just not in his style, but Lance almost demands it with his personality, and Keith is ready to listen. Shiro would be proud of him, he thinks.

“Cool, man, cool,” Lance says, nodding emphatically. “I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?”

He’s a little thirsty, but he doesn’t really want Lance buying him anything - it would make him feel like he owed him something. “No, I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

It’s then that he realizes Lance’s hand never left his arm. He didn’t notice how warm it was until his hand started to slip away, and now he wants the contact back. That’s also weird. He normally does not like contact with people. He decides that’s something to think about. Not that he ever has a shortage of that.

Then Lance is up from the table and walking away, and Keith watches him go. He watches him until he disappears completely, and then he drags his violin case across the table and undoes the clasps, flips the top open. He stares at it for a few moments and then takes it out, situates it on his shoulder and tunes it before starting a soft drag against the strings. A low note resonates throughout the room, deep and almost guttural for a violin, and then his fingers dance down the fingerboard and he tilts the bow so that a higher note rings out. He just improvises for a while, sitting with his back ramrod straight, until it melts into a familiar piece from Bach. He relaxes a little, because this is all second nature for him; he’s been playing this song since the beginning - one of the first he ever learned. It’s comforting almost, and he focuses on the sound of it for a while before he feels comfortable enough to transition into the Paganini he’s supposed to be working on. He doesn’t get far before Lance is returning, soda in hand.

“Hey, can you play Scarborough Fair?”

“If you give me the sheet music for it, probably. I don’t know it off the top of my head.”

Lance seems to ponder this for a second, unscrewing the top of his drink and taking a few large gulps. “I don’t know, I just keep thinking of different songs that would be cool to play together. I feel like anything would be good if it was with you.”

There he goes, saying stuff like that again. It makes Keith feel warm every time he hears it. “Well, have you ever played Chopin? There’s a piano and violin duet he wrote that...I really like.”

“Yeah? I mean I think I’ve played Chopin before. Maybe? Probably? Who knows. I tend to learn songs and then just forget them until I learn them again.”

“That’s why sheet music is helpful,” Keith grins, wryly.

“Wow. I feel like you’re judging me.”

“I am.”

He’s not, really, but the funny look on Lance’s face makes it worth it. But then it morphs into laughter and he plops down into his seat again. “Nice to see you’ve got a sense of humor, man. I wanna see you do that more.”

“Do what?”

Lance gives him a disbelieving smile. “Seriously? I wanna see you joke more and smile - even if it’s at my expense.” Keith blinks at him, unsure of what to say, so he just looks down at his hands, face flushing a little. “Oh man,” Lance groans, and Keith looks back up to see him put a hand to his forehead and lean back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lance laughs, still not looking at him. “It’s just - you’re too cute. It should be fucking illegal.”

“What?” He asks, and his face flushes more. God, how embarrassing. He wishes he wasn’t so goddamn pale. “You’re ridiculous,” he grumbles,

“Ridiculously handsome, you mean.”

Well, yes, but he isn’t going to say that out loud. “Just ridiculous,” he returns. Lance doesn’t look put out in the slightest.

* * *

 

Time flies for a while. Things get busier, especially now that he’s trying to fit Lance into his schedule, and he’s usually attempting to juggle a social life, sleep, a relatively stable diet, and school all at once. It’s tiring. Beyond tiring. Usually he feels like he could fall asleep standing, violin in hand. 

But he always gets little bursts of energy when Lance comes by. They see each other every other day or so, except on weekends. It’s nice; he thinks he can consider the other boy a friend. He hasn’t really asked Lance, but Lance likes to use pet names and generally treats Keith as an equal; as a, well, friend. He likes it. More than likes it. Sometimes Lance will send him a text and he gets small chest pains before he even opens the message. It’s different. He doesn’t really mind it, although he wishes the awkwardness would fade. He wishes he could be as casual as Lance seems to be. He wishes he knew how to socialize better. Usually he gets called moody, but really he just isn’t sure of how to act.

Lance seems to enjoy his company anyway. The thought makes him smile. Actually, a lot of thoughts about Lance make him smile - they’re small, secret smiles, but they’re still smiles. If he’s stressed, it helps. It’s to be expected, in a way: this is the first time someone has attempted to get close to him for no reason other than wanting to be close. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. But Lance makes him happy, so he supposes that’s a good thing. Although he wishes the guy would stop sending him memes in the middle of the night.

“So, really, why did you choose a fall recital?” Shiro asks him one morning over breakfast. Usually he’s already gone, prepping for the eight am class he has to teach, but unusually heavy rain has classes cancelled for the day. “Most people want to do it in the spring, so they have more time.”

“I already explained that,” he returns, taking a bite of cereal. Once he finishes he continues. “I wanna get it over with. And I plan on taking more difficult classes next semester so I don’t want to have to worry about my repertoire.”

Shiro purses his lips. “Have you found an accompanist yet?”

He hasn’t thought about that in a while - he’s been distracted by other things. “Uh, no, not yet. But I can probably get one of the professors to do it.”

His brother is quiet for a moment. “What about Lance? He’s good at piano, you said, and there’s only two months until the recital.”

“He would probably love that,” Keith says, laughing. “He’s always trying to coerce me into more duets.”

“He likes you,” Shiro says, smiling. “Of course he does.”

For some reason, the statement makes Keith embarrassed and a little defensive. “He likes my music,” he corrects. Although it makes sense that Lance would like him. They are friends, right? Of course Lance would like him. Just not...like-like.

Ugh, he feels a fucking kid.

“Uh huh,” Shiro nods. “I’m sure. And that’s not him texting you all day every day.”

“He’s just sociable.”

“He wouldn’t have time to do that with everyone, Keith.”

Shiro definitely has a point, but that’s a topic he’s been purposefully avoiding. He’s just getting used to Lance as a friend, and even though he’s not a total idiot and realizes that he might like Lance’s smile a little too much, that’s something he doesn’t want to get into right now. That’s something to think about later. Talking about it now would make it real, and he’s not ready for that.

“It’s just texting, Shiro.”

“Alright,” he laughs, conceding. “Just texting. You, who never texts, texting constantly. Doesn’t mean anything.”

It’s a little irritating when Shiro does that, but they’re brothers so he guesses he can let it go. And Shiro might have a little bit of a point, but yet again - it’s not time for that.

He spends the rest of the day indoors, practicing his Paganini piece and wondering if he should ask Lance to accompany him during his recital.

* * *

He ends up asking him the following Tuesday. By that point he’s had a lot of time to think about it, and it’s really almost ideal. Lance will _want_ to accompany him, and he is good. He always has fun when they play together as well. So, yeah, there shouldn’t be any problem.  

“I’d love to!” Lance exclaims excitedly, in much the same way Keith expected he would. By this point it’s been nearly a month, and Lance is kind of predictable - especially for Keith, who watches him closely pretty much all the time.

“I thought you might,” he replies, smiling softly. Lance looks so happy. He should have asked him this sooner. “I was thinking we - uh - we could do Danse Macabre? Like that first time.”

He didn’t think it was possible for Lance to look happier, but he does. Immensely. Keith’s mouth goes dry. The thinking thing didn’t really help. He still doesn’t want it to be real, still doesn’t know if he’s ready. He wishes he could just feel normal things. Not end up actually liking the first best friend he’s had in a long time. It’s only going to end up complicating things. He’s already awkward - he doesn’t need to make it worse.

But Lance’s smile makes him feel okay despite all of that. That he can make Lance that happy - it honestly makes him feel wonderful. Almost better than when he finishes a performance, when he completes a song he’s been working on for what feels like forever.

“Yeah! Yes, totally! I’ll practice it to make sure it’s completely perfect! And any other songs you give me, too!”

He’s really eager. It makes Keith smile. “I’ll make sure that they’re all super hard, then.”

“Well, then I just get to impress you,” Lance says, wiggling his eyebrows and leaning forward. He’s close, totally in Keith’s personal space, but he doesn’t mind. Being this close to Lance makes him feel good, not uncomfortable. A long, lithe finger taps under his chin, and he leans his head back a little in an almost submissive move. Which is weird because Keith is _never_ submissive.

Lance kinds of makes him want to be, in a weird and new way.

“Let me take you to dinner.”

Keith just watches him for a moment, unsure of why that statement makes him a little nervous. “You say that like we don’t eat dinner together all the time.”

“I mean -” Lance starts, but then he stops. “Yeah, you’re right,” he laughs. “Let me treat you, though. How about some pizza?”

He smiles. “Sounds awesome.

* * *

“I mean, I don’t understand why people don’t like pineapples on pizza. It’s honestly the best topping there is,” Lance says, and then punctuates his statement with a large bite of food 

“I didn’t know there was discourse about it.”

“Oh, fuck yeah there is. But everyone against it is totally wrong, so…”

They chat about totally useless things for at least an hour before Lance is signing the check and getting up to leave, and Keith doesn’t think he’s enjoyed time with another person this much in a long time. It’s fun just to listen, just to be next to him, and Keith is eternally grateful that Lance chose to stop him that day. He really hadn’t known what he was missing by not knowing Lance.

After dinner they walk over to a nearby park, and Lance actually coerces Keith into talking about himself. As he does, he gets more and more excited, smiling, moving around, and Lance just watches him with the most beautiful expression on his face. He’s glad it’s a little dark, but Keith just knows he flushes every time they lock eyes. It’s ridiculous.

They take a seat near the river, taking turns tossing rocks to see who can throw them farther, and Lance says stupidly cute things over and over again, sometimes leaning so close to his ear that Keith feels shivers run through him, feels his chest tighten and his stomach get a little queasy. He jokes and jokes, and Keith can’t remember the last time he was this happy, smiling brightly and leaning against Lance every now and again. Lance puts an arm around his shoulders, brings him to lay against his arm, and they just sit like that for a while, watching the reflection of the moon in the background. This feels an awful lot like a date, but he honestly doesn’t mind. Not at all. Then Lance whips out the music puns and Keith completely loses any composure he had, laughing, giggling, and then Lance is moving them so that they can look at each other, and Keith’s cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling too much. Lance is smiling, too, but it looks different.

Then Lance kisses him.

It’s so unexpected that he totally freezes. His eyes are wide, shocked, but Lance’s lips are soft against his, and he’s so close to melting into the touch when Lance moves away. Keith wants to move closer, to kiss him again, but the look on Lance’s face tells him not to.

“Shit,” Lance murmurs. “Uh, sorry.” He ruffles the hair on the back of his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. My bad, man,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Got a little crazy there.”

“No, it’s-” fine, he was going to finish, but Lance interrupts him.

“Nah, man. Just forget it happened, okay?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Forget? How is he supposed to forget? How is he supposed to not think about that all the time? But Lance is expecting him to respond, to tell him that - sure, he’ll forget, so he does, “Yeah,” he nods. “Okay, yeah. Not a big deal.”

“No way,” Lance laughs again, and the laugh sounds almost manic. Has a slight tinge of hysteria to it. “That kind of shit happens all the time.”

Keith does not think that’s true, no matter how bad he is with social cues. “For sure,” he says anyway.

Lance waves it all off and gets up; turns away from him and moves towards the car. Keith watches him for a long moment, realizing how fast his heart is beating, how warm his face is. That’s it, he supposes. It’s real now. He can’t really deny his feelings for Lance anymore - not after that 

He just wishes Lance wasn’t still walking away.  

**Author's Note:**

> Part two will come soon!


End file.
